we the fallen
by nico di angelos
Summary: they die, and they die, and they never get up / there are regrets in battle, and honour, too —a tale of the battle of hogwarts; a snapshot at demelza robins, winky the house elf, theodore nott and what one may regret.


**disclaimer:** disclaimed

**prompts:** train, feathers, candlelight, winky the house elf

**written for:** qlfc finals round one: write a fic featuring winky the house elf

**warnings:** one swear word, character death, my attempt at house elf verb conjugations

-:-

This is the night it all comes down to; they are creatures of magic, and they can feel it in their bones.

Tonight, a war will be fought. Tonight, a future chosen. Tonight, children will die.

-:-

Kreacher, of all beings, is the one that bands them together.

Winky has no idea how he knows, or where he just came from, but he climbs onto the kitchen bench—practically a cardinal _sin_ in their world—and commands the room with his voice.

He is an old house elf, with white hairs growing out of his ears and a deep, bullfrog voice, and Winky at least has never seen him before, but like all the others, she watches him anyway.

"The battle is coming!" he informs them. "The Dark Lord is here and he is to take your home and to harm your masters. We is _not_ allowed to let this happen!"

As the house elves descend into chaos—or at least, the closest they've been since Hermione Granger left them all hidden clothes in the Gryffindor common room—Kreacher grasps a pot in his hands and bangs it on the bench.

"My name is Kreacher," he roars, "and we must fight! Fight for my master, the defender of the house-elves! Fight the Dark Lord, in the name of brave Regulus! Fight!"

He repeats this, again and again, until the house-elves start really taking notice.

Winky hiccups, still a little light-headed from yesterday's butterbeer, and frowns deeply as she notices the determined stance that her fellow elves are taking, the look in their eyes and the fists they are forming.

She can only watch, aghast, as Kreacher riles up the elves until finally—

"FIGHT!" they chorus, tying dishcloths around their heads and arming themselves with pots and pans.

Kreacher nods approvingly, before clambering down and inspecting them all. When he gets to Winky, he stops and fixes her with a reproachful look.

"Winky is not a bad elf," she says stubbornly, hiccuping.

"Winky is shameful," a house elf to the side of her mutters, and her cheeks burn.

"Master Harry Potter is the defender of house-elves," Kreacher insists, preparing to say something else when she grasps his arm shakily.

She knows this Master Harry; he's the one who found Master Barty, the younger one. He was there when Master Barty confessed everything, even to killing Master Barty, the elder, and oh, her heart hurts with the memory of her poor masters and how she failed her ancestors by being fired but—

She nods shakily, and a house-elf kinder than most presses a dishcloth into her hands.

She clumsily ties it up, it falling into her wide eyes until she pulls it up and tightens it. She isn't hopeful about this battle, but she has reason now.

Winky is not a bad house-elf.

-:-

Demelza Robins blinks.

"Where are all these people coming from?" Colin whispers to her as they pass yet another graduate surreptitiously roaming the halls.

"The train?" Jimmy supplies.

Demelza shakes her head, but says nothing. "Come on, we better get down to the Great Hall. Maybe we'll find out what's actually happening if we do."

Demelza Robins is sixteen years old and has seen things that no adult should ever be subjected to. She has seen Ritchie Cootes tortured and heard first years scream. She knows what blood looks like when it seeps from a major wound, and the panic of realising your life no longer belongs to you, and the madness that befalls you when you question whether it really ever did.

Demelza Robins knows these things and these are the things that come to mind when McGonagall orders for the below-seventeens to leave. These are the things that come to mind when she crouches behind Neville Longbottom, and stays.

-:-

"Why are there so many fucking _feathers_ in here?" Theodore Nott splutters as they survey the Slytherin common room.

The room is full of feathers and four Slytherins. Theodore can't decide which group belongs there least.

He has no interest in being there, but Daphne had remained behind and he wasn't about to let his best friend die.

"Maybe the pillows got ransacked," Millie suggests doubtfully, but he pays no attention to her and fixes his gaze onto Daphne.

"Again, Daph, why are we here?" he demands.

"Draco has to stay and just because he made some bad choices doesn't mean he deserves to die. He's our friend," she says vehemently.

Millicent shifts. "Daphne, I've always got your back, but you realise this is a _war_, right?"

"She's not stupid, Millie," Blaise cuts in, before fixing Theo with a look. He nods his head to the corner and the boys rush there.

"Look, I think it's ridiculous too but if she wants to risk her life saving Draco, then I'm prepared to stay here and protect her from that. But I'm in love with her and you're not," Blaise whispers urgently.

Theodore isn't entirely sure if that's true—it's hard not to be a little in love with Daphne Greengrass, after all—but he accepts that as truth for the time being. "I'm staying," he sighs. "She's my best friend. I just think we'll regret it, is all."

Daphne saves Draco that night, and Blaise saves her. Nobody saves Blaise.

They regret it each day that passes. Regret, drink, repeat.

-:-

Kreacher leads the house-elves into battle, crying out, "fight! Fight for my master, the defender of the house-elves! Fight the Dark Lord, in the name of brave Regulus! Fight!"

Demelza runs past the Golden Trio and hears something about a "Winky", but is too busy marvelling at the elves and trying to find Colin to consider it much.

It's hard to find people by candlelight in the best of times, but now there's actual dead people lying around and—

"Blaise!" she hears a girl scream and turns to see a blonde Slytherin fall to the ground in tears. It's Daphne Greengrass and Demelza is rooted to the spot by the sight of Hogwarts' ice queen breaking apart.

"Daph, move!" Theodore Nott tells and shoves her out of the way of a curse.

A curse that hits Colin Creevey, instead.

Demelza screams as she watches him fall, his face captured in a moment of bewilderment, his body crashing to the floor with a thud that absolutely shatters her heart.

_Colin is brave and good and so alive and just how_— her mind screams.

When she signed up for this battle, she thought it'd be magnificent and glorious and they'd win and nobody she loved would get hurt because they were the good guys and that wouldn't be fair.

It has never hurt so much to be wrong.

-:-

**a/n:** so this is quite short, for me, but i had to write it very quick due to a lot of issues i had this week. please don't favourite without reviewing, and please leave me a review to show me what you thought!


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